


Taking Back A Cul-de-Sac

by DPPatricks



Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: Gen, Humor, ingenius cop work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:34:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23738428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DPPatricks/pseuds/DPPatricks
Summary: A friend of Huggy Bear's has a potentially serious problem so Starsky and Hutch go into Serious Problem Solving mode.
Relationships: Ken Hutchinson/David Starsky
Comments: 4
Kudos: 12





	Taking Back A Cul-de-Sac

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally published in the 2019 SHareCon 'zine.

Starsky slid into the booth across from their friend, Huggy Bear, and Hutch pushed in close beside him. Huggy’s usually cheerful expression was grim and Starsky knew something bad had happened.

“Thanks for coming so quick, fellas.”

“Huggy, we’re so far in your debt for all the times you’ve helped us,” Hutch countered, “we can never pay you back.”

“Brothers don’t count such things with brothers, Hutch,” Huggy replied. “We’re friends.”

“He knows that, Hug,” Starsky said. “What’s going on that you couldn’t tell me over the phone?”

Huggy glanced around and hunched forward. “You remember my cook, Skinny?”

Starsky caught Hutch’s gaze and silently shared a fraught memory. Skinny, Huggy’s three hundred pound chef, had been an important part of foiling a gang of killers on a remarkable Christmas Eve. He looked back at Huggy. “Who could ever forget?”

Huggy’s solemn face didn’t brighten. “Well, his neighborhood has a big problem.”

Anita, clearly knowing what was going on, brought a tray with three cups of coffee, distributed them, and left.

Pressure from his partner’s leg told Starsky that Hutch was paying as close attention as he was. “Lay it on us, Hug,” Starsky prompted.

“Some bad dudes have moved in down the street from Skinny and opened up a crack house.”

“Are you sure?” Starsky was forced to ask.

“Skinny is,” Huggy vowed. “He comes from a neighborhood where there was one on every corner and knows the signs. Cars coming and going at all hours. A mix of rough-looking guys and slick gents going in and out, never staying more than a few minutes.”

Hutch nodded and sipped his coffee. “Yep. Those are pretty good signs.”

“The house is at the end of a cul-de-sac,” Huggy added, “so all the new traffic stands out like a sore thumb.”

“Where is this place?” Starsky asked.

“Over on Blanding, just north of Sixth. Skinny and his wife moved in there two years ago. They’ve added a kid since then and have three now.”

“Isn’t that a little out of their price bracket?” Hutch’s tone was inquisitive, not argumentative. “That part of town is starting to get its act back together, isn’t it?”

Huggy nodded. “That’s why they wanted the house. They’re renting, for now, but they have an option to buy. I pay my people good, Starsky, you know that! And Skinny’s wife, Marilyn, is a teacher at the elementary school where the oldest one goes.”

“Who takes care of the other two when Skinny and Marilyn are at work?” Starsky asked.

“Marilyn’s mother, Joyce. She lives with them,” Huggy answered. “They were doing just fine.”

Hutch clearly didn’t like the pregnant pause. “Until?”

“Three weeks ago.” Huggy took a sip of coffee before continuing. “According to Joyce, a moving van unloaded some furniture - not much, a few pieces - and a black Mercedes started parking in the driveway.”

Starsky got the picture. “I’ll just bet the all-hours visitors showed up soon afterward.”

“No, bet, Starsky,” Huggy replied.

“Has it been quiet, other than all the visitors?” Hutch asked.

“That’s just it,” Huggy said, suddenly tense. “Yesterday afternoon, Joyce called here, frantic to talk to Skinny. I hauled him out of the kitchen and her voice was so loud we all heard her say there’d been a shooting, and she’d already called the cops. She’d heard gunfire and ran to the front window in time to see a dark blue sedan race past her house and turn west on Sixth. Two men came out of the drug place, along with people from the rest of the block, and everyone stared at the bullet holes in the Mercedes.”

“Did the cops respond?” Starsky asked.

“Skinny told me, this morning,” Huggy went on, “that the neighborhood’s still in the iffy part of town and five patrol cars showed up, but over an hour after everyone on the street had called. A team of detectives came around last night, with a couple of other black-and-whites as backup.” Huggy shook his head in obvious disgust. “The drug house guys must have passed it off as some kind of a joke because Skinny says none of the officers interviewed anyone else.”

Starsky shared an angry look with Hutch. “That would be the Fifth Precinct.”

Hutch nodded. “Right.”

“We’d better tell Dobey. He’ll need to have a talk with their captain. For right now, though…” Starsky pulled a pad of paper and pencil out of his pocket and passed it to Huggy. “Give us the address. We’ll go check it out.”

Relief washed across Huggy’s expressive face as he wrote.

*******

Hutch spotted the Mercedes when Starsky stopped at the corner of Blanding and Sixth. Why, oh why, had he chosen that week to take the LTD to Merle for needed brake work? It would have been as good as invisible on these streets! Instead, they were going to surveil a drug house in Starsky’s parade float. 

Undoubtedly having caught Hutch’s thought, Starsky backed into the parking space behind an old pickup truck and, screened by a scrawny tree, turned off the engine. “We can watch the house from here without drawing too much attention, don’t you think?”

“This is perfect, Starsk.” 

Over the next three hours, nine vehicles drove into the cul-de-sac and parked in front of the suspected drug dealer’s property. Men dressed in everything from jeans and work clothes to designer suits went inside, stayed for a few minutes, came out, and drove away. None of the drivers paid any attention to the red car parked behind the pickup.

Hutch noted the license plate and vehicle description of the visitor who had just turned away from them on Sixth. “We’ll give this list to Minnie as soon as we get back, then take the names she comes up with to Narco. Ought to make for some interesting interviews with these men, I think.”

Starsky grinned. “Narco’s going to be sending us chocolates and flowers for a long time.”

Hutch gestured toward the house. “Should we go have a talk with these fine people, Ollie?”

“You read my mind, Stanley.” Starsky fired up the engine, pulled around the truck and onto Blanding. Parking in front of the house, they waited. 

Within a minute, a casually, but nicely dressed man opened the front door and stepped out onto the porch. “Help you gentlemen?”

Hutch got out of the Torino and Starsky joined him on the walkway. Hutch gestured toward the Mercedes while taking out his shield folder. “We’re police officers. It appears as if you’ve had some problems here, sir.”

The man walked down the steps and approached, a hand waving negligently. “Oh, no, not really. Just some of our friends playing a joke.”

“A joke?” Starsky’s tone was all offended innocence. “Doesn’t look like that to us, sir. It looks like you’re not getting the police protection you deserve.”

“You shouldn’t have to put up with something like this, sir.” Hutch put his badge away and straightened his shoulders. “And you won’t have to in the future, I promise you that!”

The man’s expression turned worried. “What, exactly, do you mean?”

Starsky put his arm around Hutch’s shoulders and a no-nonsense look on his face. “My partner and I will be here to protect you. That’s what he means.”

“And when we can’t be here,” Hutch continued, “we’ll have friends on the force take our place.”

“You bet!” Starsky walked toward the bullet-riddled Mercedes. “This is shameful!” He walked around the car, tsk-tsking, and came back to Hutch, turning his most competent smile on the glowering drug dealer. “From now on, sir, a black-and-white or unmarked cop car will be in plain sight on this street every hour of every day.”

“Until we’re sure,” Hutch added, “that none of your friends will be playing another… joke on you. There are children in this neighborhood. My partner and I are going to make sure it’s safe, for everybody, from now on!”

“That’s the very least this police department can do for its citizens!” Starsky was really putting on a show. “Right, partner?”

Hutch nodded emphatically. “Right!”

“We’ve got paperwork to do today, sir,” Starsky said, while walking around the front of the Torino, “so we’ll just sit right here for the next couple of hours. Would that be okay with you?”

The drug dealer was clearly flummoxed; he had no idea how to counter an offer of protection from the BCPD. “Whatever,” he muttered. Shaking his head, he turned and walked back into the house.

Starsky slid behind the wheel while Hutch got in on the other side. “Did you see his face?” Starsky chuckled. “I thought he was going to pass out.”

“Let’s not count our chickens too soon, Starsk. He could call his supplier and send a hit squad to take us out.”

Starsky tsk-tsked again. “Such a Pollyanna.” He reached for the radio’s mic. “Think Babcock and Simmons would like a piece of this?”

Hutch shrugged. “You can ask.”

*******

Starsky enjoyed the next few days about as much as he’d enjoyed any stakeout within memory. He and Hutch sat in the Torino, the Mars light in full view on the roof, for hours at a time, handing off to other plain clothes or uniformed officers when their shift was over. Captain Dobey had told them he didn’t mind if they took a few cold case files to work on during the stakeouts. Who knew what extra good might come from the time spent on Blanding Street?

As the days passed, fewer and fewer cars turned into the cul-de-sac and those that did, quickly pulled a one-eighty and left.

A week after the surveillance had begun, and just as Starsky and Hutch were headed out to take up their shift, Huggy called. Starsky put him on speaker.

“You did it, Starsky! Skinny’s mother-in-law says the moving van came back a little while ago and loaded up. The blinds are open, the house is empty, and the Mercedes is gone!”

Starsky put his feet up on his desk and saluted Hutch with his coffee cup. “Wish we could have busted them before they left.”

“Narco’ll get them, Starsk,” Hutch said, placidly. “The buyers we gave them are probably rolling over on the dealers right now.”

Starsky shrugged. “That’s true. We did good.”

“Joyce wants to throw a block party for all the cops who took part in that little operation,” Huggy added.

“Just let us know when, and we’ll all be there, Hug,” Starsky said.

“Great! I’ll have Skinny let her know. He and I owe you guys!”

“Brothers don’t count such things with brothers, Huggy,” Hutch said with a smile. “We’re friends.”

END

**Author's Note:**

> My sincere thanks to a friend of mine, John Cheek, for allowing me to take this story from an actual experience he and his partner had during their years with the Tucson, AZ., Police Department. Kudos, John!


End file.
